Lloyd Arriola pianist in Review

Lloyd Arriola, piano
Weill Recital Hall at Carnegie Hall, New York, NY
November 20, 2011
 
Arriola Lloyd, pianist; Photo Credit by Kristin Hoebermann of Hoebermann Studios, New York

Arriola Lloyd, pianist; Photo Credit by Kristin Hoebermann of Hoebermann Studios, New York

 
 
 

Continuing the celebration of Franz Liszt’s 200th anniversary, Lloyd Arriola added his Weill Recital Hall debut to the festivities, bringing works to the table that are less than familiar to the average concertgoer. One could dedicate this entire review to Mr. Arriola’s bold and original programming, but the performer himself warrants full focus here; suffice it to say that the unconventional selections underscored the freshness that pervaded the recital in every way.

My first impression of Mr. Arriola was of his highly entertaining program notes, written in a conversational style with occasionally irreverent humor (e.g., a comparison of two of Liszt’s “sister” works to Wynonna and Ashley Judd), but always with expertise and insight. After decades of attending concerts, these are among the few sets of program notes I am actually tempted to save. I’d like to devote a separate article to this subject –how program notes should not read like a college theory essay or worse – but will meanwhile say that they do matter. Mr. Arriola “sells” his music, and it starts before the concert. The pianist’s biography, listing a doctorate from Juilliard and numerous performances as soloist, collaborator, and conductor, was similarly refreshing, avoiding the puffery one sees so often, but presenting the portrait of a working musician wearing many hats, all requiring top-notch skills. Following the biography was a page of grateful acknowledgments that would make an Oscar-winner blush.  If all this text painted the picture of Mr. Arriola as a passionate “people person” his first steps onstage confirmed it. Cheers greeted him before he played a note, not the work of a claque, but the intense, spontaneous outburst of many friends present.

In an instant summoning of concentration, Mr. Arriola took on an opener of Liszt’s “Grand solo de concert,” composed as a test piece for students at a Paris Conservatory competition in 1849. A test it is, chock full of every kind of technical stunt possible (and some impossible!), but Mr. Arriola handled it with polish and aplomb. It is a substantial and exhausting work, especially when played with the intensity given on this occasion, so one marveled not only at its choice (it is understandably neglected), but also at its placement as opening piece.

A hard act to follow, it was followed nonetheless by another neglected giant, Liszt’s Fantasia and Fugue on the Chorale “Ad nos, a salutarem undam” (Illustration No. 4 from Meyerbeer’s “Le Prophéte”) transcribed by Ferrucio Busoni. Here Mr. Arriola coupled his large-scale technique with an absolutely solid mastery of structure and difficult fugal writing. It was a dramatic performance – a rare combination of passion and extroversion with laser-sharp cerebral focus. Occasionally, I felt Mr. Arriola overplayed dynamically, producing some unduly harsh sounds along with some rather distracting foot stomping, but I would take his commitment any day over its opposite. The excitement of the evening was, after all, palpable.

After intermission came an assortment of what one might call curiosities. Liszt’s shortest composition “Prélude omnitonique” (about six seconds long) was summarized by the pianist’s announcement that “every birthday party deserves a gag gift.” All jokes aside, Liszt was in many ways a visionary (as one might see in a more serious vein in the “Bagatelle sans Tonalité” and other works), and a listener enjoyed this break from the pyrotechnics. After some laughter, the Prelude was replayed (a nice touch) as an introduction to “Vagyodas Amerika Utan” (“Longing for America”) by the late Liszt proponent Ervin Nyiregyhazi (1903-1987). It was a welcome discovery for those of us who know the name Nyiregyhazi mainly as a controversial pianistic figure. Also most welcome was Liszt’s introspective “En Rêve (1884-85) played with sensitivity. In addition we heard Fantasia in D (2011), a work Mr. Arriola commissioned from Harrison Gross, a 17-year-old student at the school where Arriola is a pianist. It was a touching gesture.

Liszt Magyar Rapszódia No. 12 (Heroïde élégiaque), an earlier version of the Hungarian Rhapsody No. 5, closed the program with brilliance and spirit. An encore by the pianist cleverly fused Gershwin’s “Someone to Watch Over Me” with bits of Liszt’s Piano Concerto in E-flat (along with touches of Fats Waller and others). One could only guess that Liszt, the quintessential performer, would have approved. The audience certainly did.

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by Rorianne Schrade  for New York Concert Review; New York, NY

Adam Gyorgy Pianist in Review

 Adam Gyorgy  pianist in Review
Stern Auditorium at  Carnegie Hall, New York, NY
November 13, 2011
 
Adam Gyorgy

Adam Gyorgy

 It is a testament to the gifts of Franz Liszt that, well into this year of countless 200th anniversary commemorative concerts, Liszt’s music still emerges as the inexhaustible treasure that it is. Having given several all-Liszt recitals just a few weeks ago, I had some hesitation about this assignment to review a Liszt program, but my faith in the diverse repertoire and acceptance of a wide variety of interpretive styles won out. As it has always seemed to me more meaningful to be reviewed by musicians with genuine experience in the repertoire being performed, that belief also helped offset any reservations. After all, a pianist is often the best judge of what sets (or doesn’t set) another pianist apart.

Adam Gyorgy is a young Hungarian pianist whose publicity sets him apart long before one enters the concert hall. Eye-catching photographs of the athletic Mr. Gyorgy in various exuberant action poses are matched by a biography that, in addition to the expected litany of credentials, traces his performing life to his early childhood tendency of drawing houses upside down, in consideration of the perceptions of others across a table. One imagines it was the same extroverted spirit that spurred the 2009 founding of his Adam Gyorgy Castle Academy in his native Hungary, also an effort to “give back” after all the help he received in his youth. Judging from Sunday’s performance, Mr. Gyorgy has much to give – it is only a question of how best to do it.

Starting from the high points, Gyorgy closed the evening by bringing brilliance and élan to a work that has been beset with kitschy associations for almost a century, Liszt’s Hungarian Rhapsody No. 2. While there are other works that offer a much nobler example of Liszt’s output, Gyorgy’s fresh and engaging performance dispelled preconceptions. Moving backwards from this last programmed work (in upside-down-house fashion), one enjoyed an excellent performance of Liszt’s La Campanella from the Paganini Etudes. Sure-fingered and seemingly effortless, this performance also had the greatest tonal and dynamic range of the evening. It seems Mr. Gyorgy has lived with both this Etude and the Rhapsody, and they could easily become “signature” pieces.

Preceding these last two pieces, Liszt’s Rigoletto paraphrase was delivered with polish and confidence, but it was not set apart from the standard that one has come to expect, technically and interpretively, from any number of today’s young conservatory graduates. A similar impression was left by the pianist’s straitlaced performance of Chopin’s Ballade in G minor, which also seemed somewhat anomalous on this Liszt tribute program, despite the fact that Liszt and Chopin were contemporaries.

What was more puzzling, though, was that Mr. Gyorgy chose to play the Chopin (or anything for that matter) directly after Liszt’s epic B Minor Sonata (the recital having no intermission), making the latter masterpiece somehow a mere prelude to increased brilliance. It seemed a disservice to both Chopin and Liszt to juxtapose them this way.  Some pianists (perhaps those who are trying to see and hear things from a lay audience perspective – the upside-down house) find the Liszt’s quiet ending problematic and awkward, hastening to follow it with more instantly gratifying works; even an untutored audience, however, can be trusted to grasp the depth of its final utterances and savor the silence. Perhaps this is a case for building the metaphorical house from the ground up and letting the audience come inside – there is integrity in that. An intermission would have helped.

What matched the Sonata’s minimized role on the program was the understated performance itself, subdued to the point where my companion asked whether there was a problem with the piano. The work seemed never to catch fire, with climaxes in the score (some marked triple forte) emerging muffled and monochromatic. The inherent wrestling and storming in this highly dramatic work were absent, while phrases needing to be ponderous or prescient became moderate and Mendelssohnian. Having encountered literally hundreds of renditions of this work, live and recorded, I found it difficult to embrace this one. The notes were mostly there, with admirably few smudges (not exactly unusual these days), but I needed more.

The recital’s opening “Improvisation” by Mr. Gyorgy did not help set up the Liszt either. Full of repeated primary harmonies in a sedate, New Age-type style, it seemed to dull the acute type of listening that the ensuing motivically complex Sonata requires. While quite pretty and delicately shaded, it bathed one’s ears in a wash of somewhat facile diatonic “heaven” that rendered almost meaningless the hard-won apotheosis of Liszt’s thirty minutes of high Romantic grappling. All in all, I will be eager to hear Mr. Gyorgy’s very promising playing again, but hopefully with more effective programming and more personally compatible repertoire choices.

An encore of the Liszt-Mendelssohn Wedding March (not the popular Horowitz version, but an extended transcription seeming to borrow from it) concluded the concert with spirit and humor.

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by Rorianne Schrade  for New York Concert Review; New York, NY

Nataliya Medvedovskaya Pianist in Review

Nataliya Medvedovskaya Pianist in Review
Bargemusic, Brooklyn, N.Y.
August 4, 2011
 
Nataliya Medvedovskaya

Nataliya Medvedovskaya

 

In a series entitled “Here and Now,” pianist Nataliya Medvedovskaya offered a unique smorgasbord of modern works in the equally unique venue, Bargemusic. The “Here” is New York, the base of 10 composers on her program including herself (the exception being Jeremy Beck from Kentucky), and the “Now” stretched from the present to as far back as 1976, the date of Lowell Liebermann’s Piano Sonata, No. 1. The program notes state that Ms. Medvedovskaya researched several hundred compositions before choosing her program based on “fresh compositional ideas, arresting tonal values, and colorful, interesting harmonies.” While not all of these criteria came to mind equally with each piece, it was clear that the pianist herself felt complete commitment to each one, playing all with thoughtful involvement, projection, and polish. Each work was memorized, which is no small feat in newer piano literature and an unusual testament to the performer’s dedication. Many of the composers were present and expressed deep gratitude for this pianist’s performances, and listeners were grateful for a sampling of largely unfamiliar fare played with excellence.

With a change to the printed program, the opening work was Eugene McBride’s Nocturne, a modern, somewhat Scriabinesque version of the genre of Chopin and Field, with some intense development in its central section. It invited the listener inside, as befits an opener. Eugene Marlowe’s 3 pieces from “Les Sentiments D’Amour” followed: “Rougir Pour la Première Fois” (First Blush) “Melancolie” (Melancholy), and “Le Charmeur” (The Flirt), played with polish and élan. Marlowe’s accessible, breezy style was a good foil for what came next, some compositions by the pianist herself. Ms. Medvedovskaya’s 4 pieces, Scherzo, March, Lullaby, and Burlesque, proved effective miniatures showing significant influence of Shostakovich and Kabalevsky (my listening companion suggested “Shostalevsky”). Nothing disparaging is meant, as these are interesting character pieces, simply that Ms. Medvedovskaya’s years at the legendary Rimsky-Korsakov Conservatory of St. Petersburg, Russia have had their imprint. Next came Debra Kaye’s Visions Fugitives (2 piano pieces), inspired by Ms. Kaye’s stay in Taos, New Mexico. Though the title obviously refers to Prokofiev’s Op. 22, the music, in its evocation of a noble, open landscape, seemed to bear some kinship with Copland. It brought large emotions into small forms.

The first half ended with Lowell Liebermann’s Piano Sonata, Op. 1, composed at age fifteen (1976). An auspicious start to the impressive career that ensued, this work contains more than just seeds of future greatness, as it has moments of haunting beauty (especially the third movement, Lento), along with taut craftsmanship. Ms. Medvedovskaya gave it a cogent performance, with a particularly rousing fourth movement finale.

After intermission, there were again intriguing miniatures, Binnette Lipper’s two Bagatelles (from a set of seven) of which were selected the whimsical “Dalliance” and the extraterrestrial-inspired “Spatial Relations” both given vivid characterizations in the pianist’s interpretations. A Toccata by Jeremy Beck held its head up well next to its twentieth-century predecessors in the genre by Ravel and others, and Ms. Medvedovskaya paid attention to sound and balance throughout it, never stressing the sheer perpetual motion aspect. In contrast followed Rain Worthington’s “Hourglass,” a reflection on the passage of time. Reviewer Jack Sullivan from American Record Guide described Ms. Worthington’s music well, attributing to it a “Satie-like repose.” Ms. Medvedovskaya brought out the timeless, sinuous qualities with sensitivity. “Prelude” by Beata Moon recovered the recital’s momentum with the fluidity of music inspired by dolphins, and almost “New Age” in style, though with some immediately affecting Romantic harmonies. Ms. Moon’s second piece held me less, its climactic glissandi seeming a bit facile in context.

Some good old-fashioned fun brought the program back to earth with Robert S. Cohen’s two movements from “An Ant’s World.” “The Work Never Ends” set the scene as the busy world of ants, while “Invasion of the Anteaters” married the ragtime feel of some Bolcom works with dark humor reminiscent of Gounod’s Marionettes. It was a sped-up quote from Chopin’s Funeral March, though, that made for the most outright laughter. The pianist relished every bit of the fun, as did her audience.

The program closed with the first scene from Ms. Medvedovskaya’s own ballet based on “The Wonderful Adventures of Nils,” a fairy tale by Nobel Prize-winning Swedish author Selma Lagerlof. Soprano Felicity Graham narrated with Ms. Medvedovskaya at the piano, a fine collaboration with only one mishap of the text entering early. This vibrantly dramatic music is absolutely perfect for ballet, and one expects choreographers to be tripping over one another for the rights to it. I trust that the next time I hear the music I will also see it fully realized, as it is currently under commission, we are told in the notes. Meanwhile, one’s appetite was whetted. Fireworks from across the river joined in seeming celebration of its final notes, the end of a remarkable evening.

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by Rorianne Schrade  for New York Concert Review; New York, NY

Luisa Sereina Splett pianist in Review

Luisa Sereina Splett pianist in Review
Weill Hall at Carnegie Hall, New York, NY
May 26, 2011

For a promising pianist in her twenties making her springtime debut at Weill Hall, Luisa Splett chose a program that was surprisingly autumnal. Opening with one of this reviewer’s personal favorites, Medtner’s quietly haunting “Sonata Reminiscenza” (from Op. 38 “Forgotten Melodies”), Ms. Splett played with a delicate, measured sound and a cerebral restraint that allowed the composition to reveal its own wistfulness, as if she were simply hearing it from afar. Showing minimal physical movement or romantic liberty and taking barely a nanosecond of rhythmic license, she might have elicited an initial description of being cold or mechanical, but by the end she had conveyed the piece with the purity of a still life painting, an artwork in which the beholder needs to take an active interpretive role with no predigesting or pandering. A strict adherence to each beat, which might also have seemed wooden at first, convinced me by the end that it enhanced the piece, evoking loss and the passage of time, as the work’s title and message suggest. The tone throughout was beautiful, thoughtfully prepared and mellow, though I did want more range at times. It was ultimately an unusual and moving performance, ending with a sense of surrender that was extremely poignant. It would be tedious to enumerate the skills, years of study, and international concerts that helped hone this performance, but suffice it to say that Ms. Splett had an early start, having been born to a family of musicians in Switzerland, and that she studied in Chile and Russia, where she is now preparing to defend a doctoral dissertation on the work of pianist/composer Emil Frey.

More retrospective and introspective music followed, namely the oft-ignored Ninth Sonata of Prokofiev, the last one he completed, around six years before he died. After the violent, biting, and sorrowful qualities of Prokofiev’s “War Sonatas,” the Ninth Sonata (Op. 103 in C Major) stands in complete contrast as a work of serenely narrative quality and less overt drama. Relative to the pyrotechnics in the earlier sonatas, it is far subtler in its demands on the pianist, though requiring imagination throughout, especially in its wittier moments. For this reason, one at times one wanted more contrast and projection from Ms. Splett, but her polish, as seen in the Medtner, was again outstanding. She showed such meticulous attention to the score that a keen, trained listener could probably take dictation from her performance and reproduce the exact score. This quality, along with choice of repertoire, may not easily gain the adulation of lazy or impatient audiences, but it should win the attention of purists and sincere musicians.

Schubert’s mature and meditative B-flat Sonata formed the second half of the program, another “last” of genre, composed in the final year of Schubert’s life. Ms. Splett handled it with what was starting to emerge as her signature serene polish, while also allowing the listener to plumb its depths in its darker moments. It was a fitting close to a unique and beautiful recital.

Once again, it is hard not to comment on how unusual it is for a pianist in the early years of a career to unify a program with what amounts to a theme of looking back in reflection. Understandably, many pianists play debuts that announce, “Here I come!” in displays of brilliance and drama designed to counter an attention deficit, but Ms. Splett is simply not one of them. It is not that she played it “safe” with her choices, as pianists who play these works well know, but that she simply put her program conception first, with intelligence, integrity and the perspective of an old soul. It was a memorable evening from a dedicated artist.

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by Rorianne Schrade  for New York Concert Review; New York, NY

Yongmei Hu, pianist in Review

Yongmei Hu, pianist in Review
Alice Tully Hall at Lincoln Center, New York, NY
May 22, 2011
 

Yongmei Hu

 

Leafing through the biographical notes of Yongmei Hu prior to her recent New York recital, I was struck not so much by the requisite litanies of achievements and accolades as by her charitable involvement, ranging from the children’s foundation, Alphabet Kids, to Musicians on Call, which brings music to hospitals (plus fundraisers for children with cancer and a performance with Melissa Etheridge at the Breast Cancer Symposium in Washington, D.C.).  Despite a policy of ignoring things extra-musical or prejudicial while reviewing, it was hard not to appreciate the generous spirit in evidence here to match what turned out to be a lovely stage presence. The program listing of two of the finest works in the piano literature, Brahms’s Sonata, Op. 5, in F minor and Chopin’s Preludes, Op. 28, seemed to promise a perfect afternoon, but of course they present colossal challenges as well. In some ways Ms. Hu rose to those challenges, while in others, there was clearly room for growth.

One had to credit Ms. Hu for bravery in choosing to tackle the Brahms F minor Sonata, as the unwieldy stretches throughout did not seem ideally suited to her pianistic abilities. Some pianists overcome such challenges by taking a bit of extra time for reaching, something that even can enhance Brahmsian grandeur, but Ms. Hu tended to do the opposite, as if to get past these challenges quickly (the omission of the first movement repeat underscoring this haste). The result was more messiness than one is accustomed to hearing. Sometimes haste can start a cycle of distraction as well in the performer himself, and this distraction appeared to rattle even the much-loved Andante espressivo; one of the heavenly moments in piano writing is the gentle settling into D-flat major, but the pianist seemed to be anticipating a later section as she opened with a B-flat bass note. The presence of mind she showed was admirable, even playing another incorrect B-flat presumably to balance things out, but clearly something was amiss. While I am extremely lenient about missed notes in the “no holds barred” performance, there are certain errors that reflect more than an off day, suggesting possibly that one has not internalized a work sufficiently deeply or thoroughly. Some later hallowed passages did much to redeem this performance, but the rushing and lapses seemed inevitably to return, unfortunately marring even the last dozen or so bars. Perhaps some of the unsettled feeling may have stemmed from a virtual stampede of latecomers entering after the first movement, leaving Ms. Hu waiting at the keyboard interminably to start the second movement, but in any case one imagined the Chopin Preludes on the second half would enjoy a fresh start.

Much of the Chopin did indeed fare better. The C Major Prelude had a sure-fingered brightness, followed by good momentum in the A minor, albeit at the expense of some pathos. The left hand passagework of the G Major Prelude was a model of fleet and feathery lightness, though one wanted perhaps more singing quality in the right hand. The E minor Prelude was also one of the high points of the set; its tone, balance, and character projection were just right. The spirit in it carried through to some of the other preludes, much of the B minor (No. 6), E Major (No. 9), B Major (No. 11), D-flat Major (No. 15, “Raindrop”), and A-flat Major (No. 17). Low points, due to messiness or lack of thoroughness included the usual suspects, the g-sharp minor, which emerged as a series of downbeats in a hazy flurry and the fiendish B-flat minor, which simply went off the rails, as did the deceptively difficult E-flat Major. All could have prospered from being taken just a bit more slowly. Other reservations included a need for more phrase punctuation in the rather operatic F minor Prelude, plus some curious readings throughout; all finished well, however, with a solid and convincing ending to the final Prelude in D minor. Especially brilliant were the tricky chromatic thirds in which I’ve heard some very famous pianists struggle. Such fine moments led one to feel that, on a different day and given sufficient time to know each work more thoroughly, Ms. Hu would have a recital program to make musicians sit up and take notice.

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by Rorianne Schrade  for New York Concert Review; New York, NY

Lori Sims, Pianist in Review

Lori Sims, Pianist in Review
Zankel Hall at Carnegie Hall; New York, NY
May 7, 2011
 

Lori Sims

 

Pianist William Masselos (1920-1992) was honored in a most special way this past weekend, in a tribute piano recital by Lori Sims, presented by the organization Hausmusik. Widely recognized not only as a great pianist in diverse repertoire but as a particularly important champion of twentieth-century American piano music, Mr. Masselos is also fondly remembered by those of us who were at Juilliard during his tenure there as something of an unsung hero — despite his countless enviable achievements. One applauds Hausmusik for paying tribute and also for choosing Lori Sims, a pianist of prodigious abilities, to do so.

Each work on the program related in some way to William Masselos, at times in exact repertoire matches, notably Ben Weber’s Fantasia (Variations), and at other times through subtler connections, well-explained in the pianist’s thoughtful program notes. Rather than playing the “six degrees of separation” game, I prefer to focus on Ms. Sims, whose own personal connections to each work were evident from the first notes onward, and whose masterful readings obviated the need for any extraneous “raison d’etre.”

First off, Ms. Sims gave an extremely taut, precise, and intelligent performance of Copland’s Piano Variations. With an energy that suggested she was spring-loaded, she brought the work electricity and clarity. Nerves of steel are to be expected from a pianist who has won major competitions, including the Gina Bachauer 1998 Gold Medal, but hers are exceptional, unruffled even by the blaring of loud vocal music from some unknown source during her first entrance onstage. The intensity never let up, and Ben Weber’s Fantasia was another tour de force, this time exploiting the pianist’s gift for more romantic, lush sonorities.  What Ms. Sims likened to “Scriabin’s neurotic energy” seemed to abound, and one could only be astounded that after this Weber and the Copland, there were still three Griffes “Roman Sketches” and Barber’s monumental Piano Sonata yet to come (to complete an hour-long “first half”).

The Griffes pieces did provide some impressionistic relief from the musical tension, but only for the audience, as the pianistic demands simply shifted to a different kind of artistry. “The White Peacock” requires a special languid sensuality, and Ms. Sims brought it out to a tee. “The Fountain of Acqua Paola” needs streaming showers of delicacy, expertly colored, and it had just that. “Clouds” had no less mesmerizing an effect.

The Barber Sonata, showing not a trace of fatigue, was sure-fire. While it may not have been this listener’s all-time favorite performance of the work, it was an amazingly polished, assertive close to a first half of mammoth difficulty. Perhaps if one had to pinpoint a reservation about it, it would be that Ms. Sims has such a formidable technique that she made short work of some of its heroic climaxes. In the fourth movement Fugue especially, my favorite performances let loose with an almost ferocious abandon toward the close. Ms. Sims could perhaps be called “unostentatious” (as the honoree, Mr. Masselos, was described by Harold Schonberg), but one wanted to share in the sense of triumph and release that she had so richly earned.

The program’s second part was made up of Clara Schumann’s Romances, Op. 11, Nos. 1 and 3, and Robert Schumann’s Fantasy, Op. 17. These works showed great sensitivity, thoughtfulness, and fervor, and there were many moments of nearly transcendent beauty. Somehow, though, the truly indelible impression was made on this listener by the twentieth-century works. Ms. Sims showed that she has a rare gift for bringing audiences closer to these works, and it is a gift that should continue taking her to new musical heights.

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by Rorianne Schrade  for New York Concert Review; New York, NY

Continuum in Review

Continuum
Merkin Concert Hall, New York, NY
May 1, 2011
 

Top: Elliott Schwartz, Ileana Perez Velázquez, Carman Moore; Bottom: Ursula Mamlok, Roberto Sierra, Wang Jie

 

You can be fairly sure you are at a Continuum concert when the “earliest” music on the program dates from 1998, when everything else is a New York or World Premiere, and when you hear music differently for at least several days afterward. Such was the case recently at Continuum’s 45th birthday concert. They continue, as they have indefatigably for decades, to bring us fascinating music by relative newcomers and composers of international stature.

U.S. composer Carman Moore (b. 1936) was featured first, in a work entitled “SHE”  (An Appreciation – 2010) scored for an ensemble of four, including soprano, violin, clarinet, and piano. Organized according to what the composer describes as “the five archetypes of female life,” (from infancy through old age), this imaginative and involving work weaves quotes of Lord Byron, Lucretius, Sun Bu-Er, and Basho into the composer’s original text, a paean to women. An intriguing conception, its was brought to life appropriately by the four extremely gifted female performers.

Veteran Continuum violinist Renée Jolles shone next in a virtuoso performance of Sonata para violin y piano (2010) by Roberto Sierra (b. 1953). A tour de force requiring sensitive dovetailing with the pianist, precision in what Sierra calls “my own versions and transformations of Caribbean rhythms,” and tireless technique for just about every violin challenge in the book, it was handled with an ease that was impressive, especially considering that Ms. Jolles was engaged onstage for all of the roughly seventy minutes before intermission.

Using the same instrumentation as “SHE,” Continuum concluded its first half with “A Longing for Spring, A Multi-language Song Cycle” (2011) by Shanghai-born Wang Jie (b. 1980). Set to a Tang Dynasty poem by Tu Fu (712-770 AD) the work’s evocations of nature, war, torment, and tears were enhanced by super-titles and calligraphy projected onto a screen. There were so many ways to appreciate this composition, through sight, sound, and meaning, that interest never lapsed. One could not possibly grasp it all in a single hearing, but Ms. Wang’s multi-faceted work will undoubtedly earn future performances. She is certainly an artist to watch.

Some of my favorite music of the evening was in the opening of “Idolos del sueño”  (“Dream Eidolons” – 2010) by Cuban-born Ileana Perez Velázquez (b. 1964). Soprano, clarinet, violin, cello, and piano conveyed the transparency of water and ephemeral reflections in an almost miraculous way, drawing the mesmerized listener into the world of Cuban poet Carlos Pintado. Not all of the work held me quite as strongly as the beginning, but I do look forward to hearing more by this talented composer.

Continuum paid tribute next to the 75th birthday of Elliott Schwartz (b. 1936) with a performance of his “Vienna Dreams” (1998), an appealingly nostalgic trio for clarinet, viola, and piano using fragments of Mozart, Schubert, and Brahms (and as the notes suggested, the presence of Mahler and Schoenberg hovering nearby). It was given a winning performance, as was the finale of the concert Mosaics (2011) by Ursula Mamlok (b. 1923). Mosaics, a four-hand piano work composed with a particularly artistic use of serialism, combined the forces of the ensembles founders, Joel Sachs and Cheryl Seltzer, in a fitting close to a celebration of 45 great years.

All works benefited from excellent performances of Mary Elizabeth Mackenzie, soprano; Moran Katz, clarinet; Renée Jolles, violin; Stephanie Griffin, viola; Christopher Gross, cello; Joel Sachs, piano; and Cheryl Seltzer, piano.

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by Rorianne Schrade  for New York Concert Review; New York, NY

Alexander Beridze, pianist in Review

Alexander Beridze, pianist in Review
Alice Tully Hall at Lincoln Center, New York, NY
April 19, 2011
 

A large audience packed Alice Tully Hall this week to hear Georgian pianist, Alexander Beridze, representing the Cincinnati-based World Piano Competition as its 2009 Gold Medalist. In a year flooded with news stories about troubles in the classical music world, it was a joy to witness such intense audience excitement in anticipation of an evening of piano music. This listener was filled with particularly keen anticipation after hearing and reviewing Mr. Beridze in June of 2009 (Vol 17, No.1) in an outstanding recital that included two of the same works, the Brahms Sonata in C Major, Op. 1 and Stravinsky’s Three Movements from Petrushka. Though the prior venue had been a piano showroom, Mr. Beridze had sustained the large, magnetic conceptions that had seemed destined for a wider forum – and here was that forum.

After speeches by the competition’s administrative and local leaders, Mr. Beridze opened with Beethoven’s 32 Variations in C Minor, dispelling the atmosphere of pageantry with a taut and no-nonsense performance from solemn opening to stirring finish. While I prefer more breathing room in this work, it was understandable to feel a good deal of forward propulsion at the outset of this important recital. It was a strong opening.

Brahms followed Beethoven, a nice segue given the Opus 1’s famous rhythmic kinship with Beethoven’s Sonata Op. 106 (the “Hammerklavier”). Mr. Beridze is utterly at home with the challenges and beauties of this Brahms work and should play it often. One hopes he will play it again in a still more resonant hall, as (even post-renovation) the Alice Tully Hall acoustics present a pianist with the challenge of rapidly decaying sound. Having heard Mr. Beridze’s formidable gifts in a live room on a brighter instrument, this listener was especially sensitized to the discrepancy between what was being put forth and what was being received. That said, the musical intent did come across, and it was a credit to Mr. Beridze’s skill and heroic outputs of energy. The rapid-fire leaps and riveting machine wrist work left one in wonderment (and excitement to hear this pianist’s Petrushka later in the program). Just as recalled from two years ago, the close of the Andante was particularly moving.

Schubert’s Impromptu Op. 90, No. 3 after intermission was a quiet gem, given admirable attention to voicing. Acoustical challenges still arose, leaving one wondering whether the decay of longer notes might be offset more by softer ensuing ones, but at any rate, Mr. Beridze projected its meditative quality with sensitivity. The Schubert-Liszt song “Auf dem Wasser zu Singen” followed, dazzling with its precision and range, and Liszt’s Etude “La Campanella” was simply electrifying.

If anyone still had questions about Mr. Beridze being a fabulous pianist, his Petrushka settled the matter conclusively. This work, a monstrous beast to most pianists, seemed simply a play toy to him, albeit a musical and imaginative play toy. One sensed the pianist having fun with it, delighting in the ballet’s characters and celebrating what was a brilliant finale to a superb recital. Bravo!

The cheering audience was quieted down with one of the most beautiful renditions of the Chopin Nocturne in D-flat (Op. 27, No. 2) that one can recall. One could hear the proverbial pin drop.

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by Rorianne Schrade  for New York Concert Review; New York, NY

Katarzyna Musial, Pianist in Review

Katarzyna Musial, Pianist in Review
The Kosciuszko Foundation; New York, NY
April 3, 2011
Katarzyna Musial

Katarzyna Musial

Under the auspices of the Kosciuszko Foundation, Polish-Canadian pianist Katarzyna Musial gave a colorful and varied Sunday afternoon program that included Messiaen, Chopin, Lutoslawski, and Mussorgsky. Possessing a lovely stage presence , Ms. Musial also chose well for her opening works: two Messiaen Preludes, “La colombe” and “Un reflet dans le vent.” The pianist entered with fluency and ease into the ethereal harmonic colors of the French master, and although she encountered a somewhat bright and inconsistent instrument—in a hall with bright acoustics to boot—she achieved  good results.  The second Prelude was shimmering and brilliant; I would love to hear Ms. Musial perform all the Messiaen Preludes, as she has a natural affinity for this music.

The next selections by her fellow Polish musician Lutoslawski were equally impressive. Bukoliki, five folk-inspired pieces totaling about five minutes, are in a similar vein to some of Bartok’s miniatures and are sometimes treated condescendingly as folk trifles. What I liked about Ms. Musial’s interpretations, though, was that she plumbed the Bukoliki’s emotional depths, imbuing them with warmth. It is good to remind listeners that small pieces can carry large emotions and she did just that.

The Chopin Sonata that followed, Op. 35 in B-flat minor, was a bit disappointing after such a promising beginning. It is difficult to plunge into what is nicknamed the “Funeral March Sonata” (for obvious reasons) on one of the first beautiful spring days of the year. Perhaps concentration was a challenge, but there seemed a lack of involvement, a somewhat lackluster approach to the stunning drama of the work, plus there was a memory lapse or two that must have rattled Ms. Musial further. It also may not have helped that the piano in the Kosciuszko Foundation auditorium is quite different from register to register. The left hand seemed to overwhelm the right and some of the transcendent treble lines were not sustained with the necessary cantabile sound. One knows that Ms. Musial can sustain emotional interest in singing lines, as she had shown in some of the slower parts of Lutoslawski and Messiaen, but one hoped for more in the Chopin. The last movement, likened to “wind over the graveyard”, resembled a heavily pedaled etude, needing more of the atmosphere that the Messiaen had.

If one started wondering whether Ms. Musial’s strongest niche might be in the more programmatic, impressionistic, or coloristic repertoire such as her Messiaen, her second half of Mussorgsky’s “Pictures at an Exhibition” reinforced that idea. The movement from “Il Vecchio Castello” was wonderfully evocative; “Tuileries” was vividly detailed; and “Ballet of the Unhatched Chicks” was a pure delight, fleet-fingered and energetic. The Promenade sections were in general solid and, with the exception of some messiness in “The Hut on Fowl’s Legs” by Baba-Yagá, the work was a good close to what was all in all a fine and promising recital.

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by Rorianne Schrade  for New York Concert Review; New York, NY

Quentin Kim in Review

Quentin Kim in Review
Weill Hall at Carnegie Hall, New York, NY
April 1, 2011

Virtuoso pianists who perform their own works are part of a time-honored tradition, and in this bicentennial year of Liszt (not long after anniversaries of Schumann and Chopin) we are reminded of this fact. Among the new generation in this category, Quentin Kim (b. 1976) is undoubtedly among the standouts. A recital of works by Beethoven, Schumann, and Mr. Kim himself was a memorable and inspiring occasion. In reading Mr. Kim’s program notes, I was struck by his boldness in describing his own musical views in such a way that many colleagues might easily be offended. Starting with a quote by Joseph Cardinal Ratzinger, currently Pope Benedict XVI, describing “modern so-called ‘classical’ music” as becoming “an elitist ghetto”, Mr. Kim ended his notes with a paean to “beautiful forms, beautiful sounds, beautiful colours” as a connection to Alfred Douglas’ “Supreme Beauty”. One needn’t agree with Mr. Kim’s philosophy to sense how he expresses in words a passion that translates into communicative compositions and committed performances of all that he plays. Whether or not one can embrace the 19th century-inspired tonal and stylistic aesthetic that permeates Mr. Kim’s own Sonata in G-sharp Minor—which bears strong kinship to Schumann—his sincerity is palpable. Amid the obfuscation one often finds in descriptions of new works (and sometimes in the works themselves), Mr. Kim’s writing, like his playing, is refreshingly direct. The listener was invited into the music every step of the way.

Along with elements of Schumann (inevitable, perhaps, for a pianist who has been so immersed in that composer), Mr. Kim’s Sonata showed hints of Scriabin, underscored by some colorful titles of movements such as “Resigning Sun” and “Shooting Star.” One expects that a thoughtful musician such as Mr. Kim will be led by his own words and excellent imagination into an even wider harmonic and textural range over time.

If it can be said that Mr. Kim composes like a pianist, it is certain that he performs like a composer—one with unusually fine pianistic gifts.  His complete grasp of the inner workings made the opening half, Schumann’s Sonata, Op. 11 in F-sharp minor, a marvel of shape, phrasing, and articulation, each harmonic nuance being expressed as if he himself had composed the work. Matching the intellectual, emotional, and digital range was a stunning conception of sound, especially in the slow movement, but also evident in the fourth. If the Aria had had a tone any headier or more sensuous, it would need to be treated as a controlled substance. Strangely this work has never been one of my favorites of Schumann’s, but I’ll need to rethink it. In this performance, it sounded completely new, modern in the best sense of the word, as if freshly created.

Closing the program was Beethoven’s Sonata Op. 57, in F minor (“Appassionata”). It was an excellent performance as well, though I’m perhaps partial to greater abandon in it and a bit more fullness of sound at times. After the rest of the demanding program, however, it was a feat for Mr. Kim to convey so much power.

The audience expressed their thanks and awe with an enthusiastic ovation, and was rewarded with a quiet encore of Bach’s beautiful Largo (Arioso) from BWV 1056. I will definitely look forward to hearing Mr. Kim again in both his compositions and performances.

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by Rorianne Schrade  for New York Concert Review; New York, NY